Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Other Novels by Keira
About the Author
Prologue
13th century, the Highlands of Scotland
Juliana Clavelle bolted up in her bed, surprised to see her older sister, Joan, was not asleep next to her.
Something had awakened her. She held her breath and listened, so afraid of the dark that a small whimper came from deep within her belly. She didn’t scream because Papa was always telling her to be a big lass. Now that she was eight winters, she would be.
But her hands clenched around her beloved stuffed bunny when she heard her sire bellowing in the next chamber. “You will marry him!”
Juliana crept over to the door, her bunny squeezed tightly against her chest, her fingers brushing its worn ears lovingly.
Joan sobbed. “Please, Papa. Do not force me to marry him. I hate him.”
Juliana feared the inevitable had happened. Her mother had always warned her that Joan, who had just turned eight and ten, would marry one day and leave, but she hadn’t wished to believe her.
“He’s of noble blood, I could not find you a better marriage. He’s willing to pay good coin for you. You may not like him now, but you’ll learn to care for him.”
Her mother’s voice carried through the drafty wooden door. “Richard,” she said softly, placatingly, “he does not seem to be a nice man. I don’t wish to send her to someone who would beat her.”
“He’ll treat her right. I’ll be sure of it. You’ll marry him, Joan, and you’ll stop this nonsense.” Their sire sounded more and more English as he continued to rail on her sister. Although their mother was Scottish, and their family had lived near the Lowlands of Scotland for all of Juliana’s life, their sire was always praising the English ways.
“Who taught you to be so defiant? Girls should be quiet and obedient, or shall I thrash you until you understand?”
Juliana swore to herself that she’d be quiet and obedient from that day forward so her father wouldn’t speak to her in such a manner.
And yet, she could tell Joan had no intention to do as their father bid.
“I’ll run away before I marry him,” her sister said, her tone fierce. “You’ll see.”
“And where will you go?”
“To Lochluin Abbey. I’ll take my vows.”
Chapter One
Twelve years later
Juliana reined in her horse as her guards came to a sudden stop.
They were less than two hours away from Lochluin Abbey, or so the guards had just announced before stopping in the middle of a meadow. It was clear one of the men had heard something.
All six of them were on alert, their gazes scanning the forest surrounding the meadow. The budding of the trees hampered their view, although not much.
“We’re nearly on Cameron land,” the leader said. “Reivers don’t travel here. You must have heard boars in the bushes.” Juliana didn’t see anything out of sorts. The guards moved forward slowly, finally making it to a small glen, when something off to the side caught her attention. A moment later, several horses charged toward them.
Juliana screamed, her heart pounding with fear as the marauders approached. They looked so fierce and angry, and worst of all, they were staring straight at her.
The closer they came, the more frightened she became, her gentle mare now rearing from the vibrations in the ground. “Winnie, calm down!” She tried to guide her dear horse away from the attackers, but the animal frantically jerked in different directions.
Juliana couldn’t control her.
The guards her sire had hired surrounded her, doing their best to protect her from danger.
“I want her,” one reiver shouted. “I need that coin he offered. Hand her over.”
He pointed straight at her. At her!
Who would offer coin for her? She had little knowledge of men and the outside world, having been protected by her sire. They lived not far from her mother’s clan, Clan Culloch, but they rarely visited. Her sire insisted they stay home. She’d never traveled alone before. Never seen a real fight. And now her worst nightmare was unfolding around her.
Her guards ignored the man and continued to fight, the clang of sword against sword ripping through the air. She watched in horror as three of her guards fell down in bloody heaps.
She gripped Winnie’s reins so tightly she feared she’d hurt her dear horse. Forcing herself to ease her grip on them, she tried to calm the mare by patting her with one hand as she steered her closer to the remaining guards. Three men weren’t enough to surround her, though, and one of the reivers soon broke past them. He got close enough to snake an arm around her waist and yanked her off her horse.
“Too bad, men, but I have her. I’ll get the coin for her!” The tattered plaid he wore was so dirty it was unrecognizable. Long brown hair that hadn’t been combed in a fortnight fell past his shoulders. His grizzled beard was full of crumbs, but that didn’t bother her nearly as much as the crazed look in his eyes.
She screamed just as a few horses barreled into the meadow. The man in front wore a red and green plaid, while the others were red and blue. It was obvious that these were real warriors, stronger and better trained than the men-for-hire protecting her. They cut down her attackers in a matter of minutes, and her kidnapper, deciding he was outmatched, attempted to gallop away, heading toward a ravine. The man in front, dressed in the red-and-green plaid, rode hard in pursuit, bellowing.
She bit her attacker’s arm through his tunic, hard enough to hurt, but his slap didn’t bother her half so much as the horrible taste. The man with the long dark hair came abreast of them, and in one fluid moved yanked her attacker from his horse and stuck a blade in him. Bright red blood pulsated out of the man’s body, shocking her, although she’d seen plenty of blood these last few minutes.
Grabbing the reins of the horse, she slowed the beast now frothing at the mouth, and turned him around to face this new group of men. Had they come to save her, or was this another group of reivers?
Her head spun at the realization that the men her father hired were all dead or incapacitated. Some found their way back to their horses while others still sat on the ground, stunned. The violent attack had taken place in a matter of minutes.
She was as stunned as they were.
One of the men in the new group instructed his men to assist her guards, pointing in the direction he wanted them taken, the word “healer” jumping out at her.
She hoped that’s where they’d be taken.
She hadn’t expected such a bleak outcome. Forcing her gaze up and away from the injured, she closed her eyes to gather strength, anything to banish the blood and gore from her mind. Another man, a bit older, rode up beside the one who had saved her. “Who are you, lass?” he asked, “and where are you headed? I’m Aedan Cameron, chieftain of Clan Cameron. We’ll not hurt
you.”
She glanced from one face to the other, although she couldn’t see either of them clearly because her eyes were brimming with tears. Clan Cameron. The head guard, who now lay dead, had just said they were safe because they were on Cameron land, hadn’t he?
Clearly, he had been mistaken in that assumption.
The one who’d saved her from her attacker moved closer. “Lass, ’tis all right. We’ll get you to where you were headed. Where were you going?”
“Lochluin Abbey.” Her voice cracked, but she managed the words. These men wouldn’t hurt her, her gut told her.
“Good,” the chieftain said. “We’re not far from there. We’d be happy to escort you the rest of the way. Would you prefer to ride that horse or the one you were riding? My brother has rounded up the horses back in the meadow.”
“My horse, please. The chestnut color with the white mane. She was a gift from my sire.”
The Cameron leaned over to take the reins of the fallen reiver’s horse. “Who is your sire?” he asked as he began to lead her back. The other man, the one who’d saved her, rode with them.
“Richard Clavelle. He’s English, but my mama is Scottish.” How she wished she could stop the trembling in her hands.
“You’re doing fine. We’ll stay with you until you’ve arrived at the abbey. And why are you going to Lochluin?”
“My sister is a nun. She is often at Stonecroft Abbey, but she is to be at Lochluin for the next two moons. I’m to visit with her, decide if I wish to take my vows.” The horses clattered over the rocky ground, and it was all Juliana could do to hang on through her shock. When they returned to the meadow, she saw the remaining two men from the group of warriors. They’d collected the horses of the fallen and her mare.
“Which one is yours?” her rescuer asked. “This one?” He pointed to Winnie.
“Aye, my thanks.” Tears misted her eyes because she was so happy to see her dearest pet. She’d lost her mother a while ago, her sister was a nun, but dear Winnie was always by her side.
She couldn’t lose her.
Her rescuer went to retrieve the horse, but he didn’t act quickly enough. One of the men who’d collected the horses dismounted and led her mare over. As if she weighed no more than a feather, he lifted her down from the reiver’s horse and helped her onto her mount. She was struck by the color of his hair, a dark deep red, and the kindness in his eyes. His hands were rough from the lists, yet they were strangely gentle, too.
Shock still rolled through her, but she managed to clear her head enough to say, “I don’t know any of you, but my thanks to you all.” Much as she wished, she couldn’t stop her hand from rubbing the fur on her horse’s back.
“Ruari Cameron, brother to the chieftain,” the red-haired man said with a small smile.
“Padraig Grant,” her rescuer said. “Cousin.”
“Neil, second-in-command of Clan Cameron,” said the fourth man, the oldest in the group. “What’s your name, lass?”
“I’m Juliana Clavelle.”
“Pleased to meet you, my lady,” Ruari said, his gaze boring into hers.
A fluttering deep inside her belly spread a wave of heat through her, something she’d never experienced before.
Ruari Cameron was an uncommonly handsome man.
***
Ruari was ready to spew fire across the glen. Had he ridden in alongside his brother, he could have saved the lass, but he’d allowed himself to be distracted, and Padraig had beaten him to it.
For years, Ruari had been eager to prove himself to Aedan, but he was beginning to think he was cursed. Surely he’d accomplished far too little for a man of eight and twenty.
But one glance at his companion was enough to distract him from his own problems. The poor lass was clearly shaken. Although the hood she wore concealed most of her face, he saw the shock and horror in her light brown eyes, almost the same shade of her hair. He suspected she’d never seen so much violence before.
After they’d ridden for nearly half an hour, Aedan signaled for them to stop. “Ruari, you and Padraig will escort the lady the rest of the way. Take her directly to the abbey door. Neil and I will inspect the area for more reivers. I’d like to know why these men attacked a group of travelers so close to the abbey. This is most unusual.”
“Aye, you can count on me,” Ruari said, grateful he could do this one small thing. Mayhap he could offer some words of comfort to the lass. Help her through her hardships.
But as soon as the older men left, Padraig jumped right in with his casual teasing, not allowing Ruari the chance to talk at all. “You wish to take your vows, lass? You’re much too pretty to be a nun.”
Ruari glanced at her, catching a flash of pink cheeks before she looked at Padraig, who rode on the opposite side of her. She said nothing.
“You know how pretty you are, do you not?” Padraig persisted.
She kept her gaze straight ahead this time, ignoring him.
Padraig didn’t stop with his casual entertainment. “Look at all the creatures coming out to admire you. There’s a hare staring straight at you, over there is a red squirrel, and I can almost hear that otter over there asking, ‘Where is she? I wish to see her…’”
When he still didn’t get a reaction from the lass, Padraig shrugged his shoulders and glanced at Ruari. Usually, the lad was able to get a laugh from most anyone.
“Mayhap she’d prefer you to be quiet, Padraig,” Ruari drawled. Although he was grateful Padraig, their cousin by marriage, had come to foster with his brother, the lass appeared immune to his charms. Not a surprise given what she’d been through, and her wish to become a nun.
But the lass surprised him. The lightest of giggles came from underneath her hood, and Juliana shifted her head to glance at Ruari before looking at Padraig. “I don’t see an otter,” she said. “You’re telling tales.”
Padraig gave her a wide grin, encouraged by the attention, and said, “You missed him. I for certes saw one. Did you not, Ruari?”
“Most surely I did not, you wee fool.” And because he wished to please her, he added, “Anyone with eyes would know it was a badger.”
“Excuse me, but I beg you not to insult me again, Cameron. I may be a big fool, but I’m surely not a wee one. And I do have two eyes in my head.”
She laughed again, the sound surprisingly musical, and pulled her hood back enough for them to see more of her face. “I don’t mind if he wishes to talk,” she said, “but I don’t know either of you well enough to converse. Papa tells me I should keep quiet around strangers.”
Ruari quirked his brow at the lass, trying to conceal his sudden dislike for her sire. “He does? I don’t know many lasses who are quiet. I have two nieces and they never stop chattering.”
Padraig, serious for a change, asked, “Tell me true. Do you really wish to become a nun?”
She glanced at him and tipped her head. “I’m not sure. I’ll be here for a fortnight. I’ll know better by the end of my journey.”
“But why would you choose to become a nun?” Padraig asked, not taking his gaze from her. “I never understood it.”
“To serve our Lord.”
That left Padraig speechless, something that rarely happened. But their opportunity to continue their conversation came to an end since they’d arrived at the gates of the abbey. Ruari did manage to shove Padraig out of the way so he could help Juliana down from her horse. She didn’t weigh any more than his nephew Brin, who was only ten summers.
She blushed as he set her feet on the ground, but he said nothing, not wishing to embarrass her further.
Padraig’s words must have caught up with him, for he said, “Ruari, must you be so rough on the lass? She nearly fell to her knees.” He had a teasing glint in his eyes, something that had become quite familiar in the months he’d spent on Cameron land.
Juliana giggled again, covering her mouth. “Nay, I did not, but I believe you know that, my lord.”
Padraig jumped off h
is horse and spun around in a circle. “My lord? Who are you speaking to?”
Her finger pointed to him and he guffawed. “Lass, call me Padraig. I’m only six and ten, and for certes no lord. A big fool, a beast, or a bastard as my cousin often calls me, but no lord. Your Lord is inside the abbey there.”
Juliana exploded into laughter, hiding her face in her hands in a futile attempt to hide her giggles. This time Ruari felt a pulse of gratitude—the lad had made her forget her troubles, if only for a moment—and he couldn’t help but smile. It was a lovely laugh, and he wished to hear it often.
He reached up for her saddlebag, then ushered her toward the front entrance of the abbey. Although Padraig took a step forward as if to join them, Ruari shook his head. “Stay put.” He gave his cousin a harsh look to let him know he meant it.
When they stepped into the abbey, Juliana finally dropped the hood of her mantle, her gaze taking in the passageway and the chamber meant for receiving guests. Her eyes looked huge, and it struck him that the lass had been through quite a lot in a short period of time. She had to feel overwhelmed by the experience.
A moment later, the abbess, Mother Mathilda, stepped into the small space to greet them.
“Greetings to you, Mother Matilda,” he said.
“Master Cameron. Who have you brought me this day? Is this Sister Joan’s sister, Juliana?”
“Aye, and here are her things.” He set the saddlebag down on the stone floor. Juliana still had not said anything, so he explained, “Lady Juliana’s guards were attacked by reivers. She’s a wee bit upset.”
“Didn’t I just hear her laughing?” Mother Matilda asked, her gaze searching both faces.
Ruari could not help but smile at that, proving something he’d always known. The abbess didn’t miss much. “Aye, my cousin Padraig was spreading his usual merriment, but I do wish for you to know ’twas a trying and exhausting journey for the young lass.” His hand went to the small of her back of its own will.
“I see. Aye, I am familiar with Padraig’s sense of humor. He can be a delight or quite exhausting. Reivers, you say?” the abbess asked. “Will our torment never stop?” She shook her head and folded her arms in front of her. Before anything else could be said, a nun he’d never met flew down the hall and swept Juliana into an embrace. Their eyes were the same unusual shade of light brown, almost gold.
The Banished Highlander Page 1